


Here's To Us

by Flowerparrish



Category: Marvel
Genre: Fake Dating, Karaoke, M/M, Natasha is the best bro, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 11:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17621636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flowerparrish/pseuds/Flowerparrish
Summary: If Bobbi’s here, then she knows she’s running the risk of running into him, because she knows that Clint loves this bar on Karaoke Night. That can only mean one thing: she’s winning the breakup.





	Here's To Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kangofu_CB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/gifts).



> Prompt: fake dating 10. "my ex just showed up with their new partner and I don’t want them to win this breakup"
> 
> For Kangofu_CB, who is the best. 
> 
> Title from Halestorm's "Here's To Us"
> 
> Not beta'd, so all mistakes are my fault. Sorry.

“Don’t look now,” Natasha tells Clint in a way that says an evening with truly great potential is about to be ruined. “Bobbi’s over by the bar.”

 

One might think, seeing how Clint works in a bar (as well as part time teaching classes at an archery range), that Clint would choose any other location for his night off. But the key differences, of course, are that it’s a different bar with a much better aesthetic, he’s actually allowed to drink and get trashed instead of having to watch other people do it and figure out when to cut them off, and most importantly, it’s Karaoke Night.

 

Which means, if Bobbi’s here, then she knows she’s running the risk of running into him, because she _knows_ that Clint loves this bar on Karaoke Night. That can only mean one thing: she’s winning the breakup.

 

“Fuck,” Clint says, and resists dropping his head into his hands only because Bobbi could look over and he doesn’t want to make it _that_ obvious that he’s still as much of a disaster as he was when they split up. “She’s with someone really hot, isn’t she?”

 

Natasha’s eyes are amused. “She’s with a very attractive woman, yes.”

 

“Fuck,” Clint curses again, because if it was just a hot guy Clint could maybe— _maybe—_ convince himself that it wasn’t so bad; Clint’s attractive and he knows it, his biceps are _fucking amazing_ even if he’s got a couple days’ worth of facial growth going on because he’s been too busy and too lazy to shave and his hair’s a perpetual disaster, because that look _works_ for some people. But a hot girl? Clint can in no way compete with that and he knows it. “I’ve lost the breakup.”

 

It isn’t a surprise, necessarily. He and Bobbi split up months ago and Clint hasn’t even tried dating since, too disheartened by the spectacular way they crashed and burned to even consider opening himself up like that again. Besides, he’s got an awful schedule and he’s incredibly busy; where would he fit in a significant other?

 

All of that feels like excuses, now, in the face of this moment, when Clint is going to have to admit his life is still a dumpster fire to the person who realized he was too much of a dumpster fire to be worth the effort.

 

Natasha’s eyes flick up over his head toward the door, and then zero in on him once more with laser focus. “This is important to you,” she says, almost a question.

 

He nods miserably.

 

“I might have a solution,” she says decisively, and then looks back behind him once more and waves, the motion controlled and dignified in a way Clint could never hope to emulate.

 

“What—?” he starts to ask, but she dismisses his question with a secretive smile, so he shuts up and decides to wait and see for himself.

 

And man is it worth the wait, because after a few moments pass, the most beautiful man Clint has ever seen appears at their table. He grins at Natasha with an adorable lopsided smile and Clint feels his heart skip a beat in his chest; fuck, he’d almost forgotten what this level of attraction felt like. He definitely remembers now.

 

“James,” Natasha greets warmly, and _oh,_ this is Natasha’s friend James. “Meet Clint,” she continues, gesturing at him, and Clint hastily tries to look less like he’s ogling the man.

 

He must not entirely succeed, because James’ eyes are amused when he meets Clint’s. “Good to meet you,” he says, offering his hand for Clint to shake.

 

Clint is half afraid that this is a dream, because people this gorgeous (other than Natasha, of course) don’t exist, but that’s dumb, so he reaches out and shakes James’ hand. “Nice to meet you,” he remembers to say after a moment, and risks a glance at Natasha to see that she’s laughing at him on the inside. Great.

 

Smooth, Barton.

 

He remembers to let go of James’ hand after only a few seconds too long and wraps his palms around his beer tankard instead.

 

Natasha’s eyes on him are all too knowing, but he’s adept at ignoring her when he wants to.

 

“Would you like to sit, James?” Natasha offers, gesturing for him to take a seat _next to Clint._ Clint’s going to die. This is the worst night ever.

 

James does, arm brushing Clint’s as he leans them on the table, and, “Whoa, metal arm? That’s so cool!” As soon as the words leave his mouth, he winces. Clint blames the fact that his brain to mouth filter hasn’t switched back on after being deactivated by James’ intense hotness for his lack of tact.

 

Okay, so it’s not like he’s got much of a brain to mouth filter most of the time anyway, but, c’mon, he’s better than this, right?

 

Luckily, James only seems amused. “Yeah, it’s StarkTech.”

 

Clint nods and does not open his mouth, because he doesn’t trust himself not to say, “It’s hot as fuck,” and that’s not something you say about a stranger’s prosthetic. Like, if someone said that about his ears, he’d be seriously skeeved. Oh, no, does that make him creepy for thinking it? Fuck, this night just keeps getting worse and worse.

 

He stares morosely into his beer and fails to miss Nat’s knowing glance. “So, James, Clint has a problem,” she says.

 

Clint’s eyes snap to hers, frantic, because she _cannot_ be about to tell the hottest guy he’s ever met that he’s about to lose his trainwreck of a breakup.

 

“He needs a fake date to impress his ex,” she continues, and it’s not the worst idea ever, except how it also kind of is.

 

“Why not you?” James asks, glancing between she and Clint.

 

Clint has to laugh. Ever Natasha smiles widely. “There’s no way I’d date Clint, and Bobbi knows it,” Natasha tells him, still smiling.

 

James smirks, glances between them, and gives Clint a considering once-over. It should be patronizing, but instead it’s just… hot. Christ, it’s like everything this guy does is hot. It’s totally unfair.

 

“Okay,” James agrees after a moment.

 

“Wait, what?” Clint asks. Because it kind of sounds like this Greek statue of a man agreed to pretend to be dating Clint, the biggest disaster in Brooklyn. “Seriously?”

 

He shrugs. “Can’t think of a better way to spend the night,” he says, and that’s…

 

Is he flirting?

 

Clint dismisses that thought, because there’s no way James is flirting with him. Life doesn’t work out that way for Clint.

 

Except how he’s about to _win_ his breakup, holy shit. “Okay, yeah, thanks,” he babbles out, still trying to wrap his brain around what’s happening.

 

Nat moves to stand. “I’ll go get more drinks.” She says it less like an offer and more like a command. “You two get to know each other.”

 

He supposes it would make sense to know _something_ about James, even if they’re not actually dating. He doubts it will be too difficult to sell it to Bobbi, but then at the same time, maybe it will because she’ll take one look at them and know that James is out of his league. Oh, man, why did he let Nat commandeer him into this? He should have just lost his breakup, gotten wasted, and went home sad and alone.

 

Clint isn’t sure he wants Nat to leave him alone with James to stick his foot in his mouth even more, but he knows he doesn’t have a chance of convincing her to stay, and also his beer is almost gone. James just nods at her and turns his body so he’s angled toward Clint, expression open.

 

“So, tell me about yourself,” James offers.

 

Clint’s brain goes blank. He can’t think of a single thing to tell about himself. “You start,” he offers after a minute. It’s probably rude, but it’s James’ fault for being so attractive that Clint can barely think.

 

Luckily, James just shrugs and starts talking. “I’m a security guard at Stark Industries and a part time grad student studying engineering. I have a best friend named Steve and a cat named Steven Jr, because I wanted to piss off human Steve. I met Natasha when we were both at the vet with our cats, and she’s my only non-Steve, non-school, non-work friend because everyone else gets annoyed when I’m too busy to spend time with them during normal hours. Oh, and most everyone calls me Bucky, not James.”

 

Clint considers that information. “Did the name piss off Steve?” he asks after a moment.

 

Bucky laughs. “No, the asshole was flattered.”

 

Clint laughs too. “And your name?” he asks.

 

“That one didn’t piss Steve off either,” James snarks.

 

Clint rolls his eyes. “Very funny.”

 

“It’s based on my middle name. Also, don’t think I haven’t noticed that I still know nothing about you.”

 

That’s fair. “I’m a bartender and an archery instructor. I have a dog named Lucky that I stole from the mob who I share with my friend Kate. Natasha is my best friend. I live off of pizza mostly. My favorite color’s purple.” Clint tries to think of more to say. “I don’t know, man, I’m pretty boring.”

 

Bucky’s eyebrows went up at some point during Clint’s rambling and haven’t gone down. “You stole a dog from the mob?”

 

Clint shrugs. “They were abusing him.”

 

“Okay, definitely good, but like, how are you alive?”

 

Clint thinks about it. “Dumb luck? Also, Natasha scared the shit out of them. I don’t know what she said but they pretty much backed off.”

 

Bucky shakes his head. “And you think you’re boring.”

 

Clint shrugs. “Kinda am.”

 

Natasha returns then before they an awkward silence can develop, or Clint can put his foot in his mouth, or a million other small disasters could occur and ruin this, the most positive and possibly flirty conversation he’s had in months.

 

She slides his beer over to him and hands one to James as well, sipping her own drink and asking Bucky about his classes. She’s able to actually somewhat keep up with all the math and engineering discussion, so Clint just leaves them to it and half-listens. He does, of course, notice that, surprise surprise, Bucky is incredibly attractive when he’s talking about something he’s clearly passionate about. But then, Clint’s always been attracted to that in a person.

 

Whoever’s in charge of karaoke tonight calls that sign ups are open.

 

“What are you singing tonight?” Natasha asks Clint.

 

He shrugs. “Something nobody else is, I guess,” he says, because the only thing he hates about karaoke is when everyone sings the same few songs.

 

Bucky gets a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I can pick one for you,” he offers.

 

Clint knows it’s a bad idea, maybe, for his pride at least, but he doesn’t have much of that, and there’s a chance that if he goes through with this, he could see Bucky _laugh._

 

“Sure,” he agrees. “Pick something good.”

 

“Oh, I will,” Bucky promises, smirking. Clint _does not_ swoon (but he maybe, just maybe, kinda wants to).

 

Bucky’s gone a moment later and Natasha’s focus is back on Clint. “So?” she asks

 

“Oh my god he’s so hot I’m going to die,” Clint says in a rush. “Holy fuck, Nat.”

 

She looks pleased. “I think he likes you,” she says.

 

“He is _way_ out of my league,” Clint points out.

 

She shrugs. “Let him decide that for himself,” she advises, which is just such _Natasha_ advice.

 

“I’m gonna fuck it up,” Clint points out. “I’m me.”

 

She narrows her eyes at him. “Don’t,” she orders.

 

“Well, not on _purpose,”_ he whines. He is… a bit tipsy, actually. That’s either very good or very, very bad.

 

She raises a perfectly arched eyebrow. He can feel her disbelief wafting across the table at him.

 

“I’ll try,” he promises. “Really.”

 

“Good,” she agrees, and then mercifully lets the subject drop. “How was work?”

 

Clint is telling a story about the last person who got wasted and then tried to leave to drive home (which Clint absolutely did not allow) when Bucky returns. Clint finishes his story (more a complaint, even a rant, really), and then turns to ask him, “What did you pick?”

 

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

 

“Ooh, mysterious. I hope I know it.”

 

Bucky smirks. “You will,” he promises. His tone further promises that it’s something embarrassing, but again, he has no shame, and if Bucky keeps smirking at him like that, it’s absolutely worth some public humiliation.

 

Bobbi of course chooses that moment—with Bucky smirking at Clint and Clint trying not to imagine what it would feel like to kiss his ridiculously perfect face—to walk up. Clint feels a surge of panic at the sight of her, which he chalks up to residual bad feelings from their breakup and not at all due to the fact that Nat’s right, and she’s with an incredibly gorgeous woman.

 

“Hi,” Bobbi says, smiling genuinely at Clint.

 

If she can manage to smile at him and make it genuine, he’s not going to be the asshole who can’t even have a civil conversation with his ex. “Hi Bobbi,” Clint replies.

 

Bobbi greets Nat and Bucky not very subtly slips his—metal!!—arm around Clint’s shoulder. It’s a heavy weight, but rather than bother him, it grounds him. A little bit of the panic ebbs and, without consciously meaning to, he relaxes a little bit into Bucky’s side.

 

“We haven’t met,” Bobbi says, taking that moment to turn her attention back to them—specifically to Bucky. “I’m Bobbi.”

 

“Bucky,” he greets, offering his free hand to shake hers.

 

“Nice to meet you,” she says, her sharp eyes taking in his arm around Clint. She doesn’t look jealous or hurt or any of the negative emotions Clint genuinely wouldn’t want her to feel; she just looks kind of amused. It’s also not necessarily the reaction Clint wants, and he starts to worry that maybe she’s not buying it. “This is my friend Jess,” she says, gesturing at the beautiful woman beside her.

 

And, oh. Oh. Friend. Not girlfriend. As in… maybe Clint’s the only one who cares about winning the breakup. Maybe he’s an asshole.

 

Nat isn’t looking at him, is, in fact, greeting Jess, but Clint’s world is kind of collapsing because _wow,_ he’s an asshole.

 

Bucky’s arm tightens around him slightly, and Bobbi clearly notices. “How long have you two been together?” she asks.

 

Clint doesn’t know what to say. Not long? A while? For a little bit? We’re not actually together, we just met?

 

Bucky saves him, saying, “We’re still getting to know each other,” which _implies_ things, but is technically also true. It’s kind of devious, and Clint can’t help the smile that graces his face.

 

“Well, I’m glad,” Bobbi tells him. “You two seem happy.”

 

Clint thinks about how miserable his life has been since they broke up, and then he thinks about how he’s actually enjoyed himself talking to Bucky for the last hour or so. “Thanks,” he says, rather than try to sort out a maybe-true answer from the confused mess of his feelings. “I hope you’re happy too?”

 

She shrugs. “Most of the time,” she says. The glance she shoots Jess says, oh, maybe they aren’t dating yet, but there’s clearly something there. Clint’s maybe only half an asshole.

 

“Glad to hear it.” He’s proud of himself for actually meaning it. The situation of Bobbi moving on with someone leagues above Clint seems less dire with Bucky’s arm around his shoulders.

 

The conversation awkwardly trails off, and Bobbi and Jess excuse themselves.

 

Nat’s eyes on Clint are judging him. “How was I supposed to know?” he whines.

 

Bucky laughs. “She’s definitely still winning the breakup,” he announces, and _still doesn’t pull his arm off of Clint’s shoulders._ Clint would say something, except how he really doesn’t want Bucky to move.

 

“She really is,” Nat agrees like the traitor she is.

 

“I am human garbage,” Clint announces.

 

“At least you’re hot,” Bucky comments. Clint, who had been drinking from his mostly full tankard chokes.

 

“You think I’m hot?”

 

Bucky’s arm finally—unfortunately—retreats from around Clint, apparently so Bucky can turn in his seat to raise an incredulous eyebrow at Clint. “Would I have agreed to fake date you if I thought you weren’t hot?”

 

Clint’s face is flaming red, he just knows it. Natasha is definitely enjoying this way too much. “I dunno, maybe you just felt bad for me or something?”

 

Bucky sighs and rolls his eyes. “Would I be flirting with you if I didn’t think you were hot?”

 

Clint opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “So it _was_ flirting,” he blurts out, and then thinks, aw, brain, no.

 

Bucky looks pained. “Am I that bad at flirting or are you just that oblivious?”

 

“Clint can be obtuse,” Nat puts in. “And on that note, I’m going to go get another drink, because watching that was almost painful.”

 

“I’m pretty dumb,” Clint admits after Natasha vanishes into the crowd once more.

 

“Good job you’re pretty,” Bucky sighs, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

 

“So… do you want to make fake dating real dating?” Clint asks, because apparently that’s a thing he might get, and his brain doesn’t know how to process the potential.

 

“Yes,” Bucky says simply. “I’m going to kiss you now, if that’s okay, because you’re been biting your bottom lip all night and it is incredibly distracting.”

 

Clint blinks. He hadn’t even noticed. But then he realizes Bucky’s actually waiting for an answer and he says, “Oh, hell yeah,” and Bucky rolls his eyes but his expression looks fond and then he’s leaning in and they’re _kissing._

 

It’s not fireworks going off in Clint’s head or anything; it is, possibly, better, depending on who you ask. If you’re asking Clint, it’s definitely better. It’s warm and soft and Bucky bites his bottom lip, which is in fact a little bit sore, and Clint groans into his mouth.

 

“Fuck,” he says when they pull apart.

 

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees. He looks like he’s about to lean in again when Natasha drops back into her seat across the table.

 

“I’m back,” she announces redundantly, which means what she’s really saying is, _I will eviscerate you if you make me watch you making out._ “And karaoke’s starting.”

 

Bucky’s abruptly gleeful, and Clint’s still mentally catching up with the events of the last hour, so he’s not even suspicious.

 

“We’re gonna have the best date,” Clint whispers over the sound of someone destroying _Behind Blue Eyes._

 

“Better than this, I hope,” Bucky comments, eyes glinting.

 

“Well, don’t set your standards impossibly high,” Clint shoots back.

 

Bucky laces his fingers through Clint’s, and Clint can’t believe how inexplicably good this night has turned out.

 

***

 

Bucky makes Clint sing _Call Me Maybe._ Joke’s on him, Clint nails it.

 


End file.
